


Just Another Coffee Shop AU

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Zayn, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Barista Harry, Barista Liam, Coffee, Coffee Shops, M/M, Musician Niall, Mutual Pining, Theatre Major Louis, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1279684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <strong>Zayn meets Liam on a Thursday.</strong>
</p><p>Or, the one where Zayn draws Liam a little too much, Liam likes Zayn a little too much and the coffee tastes like proper shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Coffee Shop AU

**Author's Note:**

> First work on here, I hope you guys enjoy. I don't have a beta, so any and all errors and inaccuracies are mine.
> 
> P.S. Please don't make me regret making this visible to the public. You know what that means :)
> 
> Translation by Kiara_Lable into Russian here: http://ficbook.net/readfic/3162282

**Zayn starts going on a Tuesday.**

 

His first class of the new semester, an anatomy drawing class, is scheduled for eight thirty in the morning, and there's no way he is going to survive without some sort of caffeine in his system. 

He finds the shop completely by accident. (Although Zayn will never admit that he was so tired he walked straight into the tiny little blackboard stand and tripped all over it). It's a little rinky-dink hole-in-the-wall coffee shop that goes by the name of Cafe Alt and its reputation among the locals and students includes having the best scones, macaroons that are to die for, and, coincidentally, shit coffee.

Well, that was the local consensus. Zayn quite likes the coffee, actually. But that was probably because he considers anything laced with caffeine good at eight thirty in the morning.

It doesn't become a habit until it does, and Zayn finds himself coming back the day after that. And the day after that. And the next day after that.

Plus, it's a great place for sketching.

 

**He meets Liam on a Thursday.**

 

It gets to the point where Zayn just can’t stand his roommates anymore (and it's only the first two weeks of third year, so help him). Niall is way too loud, way too Irish, and way too attached to his guitar to give it up even at two-thirty in the morning. Louis is way too clever and conniving, snapping back at Zayn with wittier comments and smirks when Zayn has to snap at him, which is often enough. 

By Thursday afternoon, Louis has drank the last of the milk _and_ broken a guitar string, Niall is wailing, and Zayn has just had way too much of them and storms out of their dorm without as much as a ‘need some coffee’ warning.

(Needless to say, after two years of living with his best mates, Zayn can honestly strongly recommend against rooming with your best friends at University).

Jesy's and Jade's morning shifts are long over when he walks into the shop, them being replaced by two lads Zayn's never seen before. The girls, although extremely nice and friendly, aren't really given a second thought as he spots a boy who is all shy smiles and warm, sparkling brown eyes behind the counter. Zayn tries not to think much of it when the other barista- a good looking curly haired lad- orders him to his own cash.

He hands him his coffee and croissant- and is that really a t-shirt being misused as a bandana on his head?- with a slow and easy "have a good day, mate," to which Zayn grunts a "thanks".

Walking out, Zayn chances a glance back to the counter and meets eyes with the brown eyed boy, who quickly looks back down at the counter.

He doesn't think about the boy much after. 

(He crosses his mind occasionally).

 

**Zayn finally gets to give Liam his order on a Monday.**

 

It 's just after a gruelling three hour art history lecture. And, feeling as though he should reward himself for finishing that essay (and a mural due in a couple days he'd been working on for a solid month), he thinks he deserves a nice, strong cup of coffee.

It's an added bonus that the brown eyed boy is working, and Zayn can’t thank his lucky stars enough when the girl in front of him, the type to wear leggings under her shorts, combat boots in the last days of summer, and a beanie on her head inside, demands the right amount of change back right before Curly is about to call him over. And Zayn rocks back and forth in his own combat boots, biting the side of his lip, begging the rude girl to ask the green eyed barista to count her change ‘one more time’. He's already there before Liam (Zayn totally didn't read his name tag) calls out a ‘next’.

“Hi.” Zayn smiles crookedly. And maybe there is a sigh of relief in there too.

A blush quickly sweeps across the boy’s scruffy cheeks, and okay, that isn’t _exactly_ how to say ‘hi’ to someone who is just going to make you your crappy morning (afternoon, who’s keeping track?) cuppa.

“‘Lo. Um. What would you like?”

“Just a cuppa, black.” 

Liam wrinkles his nose. 

“Hey,” Zayn tsks. “S’actually good, okay?”

Liam shakes his head with a goofy grin. “Battery acid mixed with asphalt isn’t really my thing.”

“Can I also get the chocolate croissant?”

“Gotta wash the tar down with something, huh?”

Zayn decides right then and there that this Liam kid who works at the coffee shop isn’t half bad. (Okay, and maybe even really cute).

 

**Their story begins soon after.**

 

Zayn isn’t sure when drawing Liam became a thing. Then again, Zayn doesn’t know when hanging out at the bakery with the shit (read: tasty) coffee became a thing either. (Okay, that’s a lie. It became a thing the second he saw Liam that fateful Thursday. Zayn still hasn’t gotten around to thanking Louis and Niall for that).

It isn’t all Zayn’s fault that he gets caught up with drawing the barista. It just so happened one afternoon he's sketching out some objects and angles of the place when he moves on to people. Other patrons coming and going, but mainly the baristas. The curly haired boy is easy enough, all bright and smiles and dimples and twinkling eyes that make his face easy to map out. The other one is tougher, smooth, that baby face providing no lines or shadows to work with, but he manages. And Zayn is pretty proud of his rendition of Liam. 

At first. 

The next day, while shifting through his worn leather sketchbook, he catches a glimpse of that very first drawing. He had thought it was great. He was proud at the time. Now he glances back and forth between his sketch and his subject and it's horrible. 

The forehead is too high, nose too big, brow too crinkled, lips too plump, and Zayn could stab himself in the foot with a pencil if he wasn’t in a public space.

A week later, the number of furrowed eyebrows, puppy dog eyes, and childish smiles in Zayn’s sketchbook are growing. And rapidly.

Zayn tries to console himself by sketching out the quick table, or chair, or other patron, but the number of Liams, or parts of Liams, keep multiplying at a dangerously creepy rate.

Zayn tries not to think about it. He doesn't really believe in the idea of a specific muse.

 

**& &**

 

That Wednesday, Zayn stalks out of his painting class gripping his sketchbook tightly at his side as his eyes get that awful sting and _no_ , he is not about to cry. He weaves through the other students to make it discreetly to the men’s bathroom.

And, okay. This is really bad. That piece he had been working on for at least a month solid was basically just shit on by his professor.

Apparently, a month of all that hard work isn’t enough to ‘put your whole heart and soul’ into it. 

Zayn tosses his sketchbook, carelessly aimed, at the counter. It hits and bounces off the edge to smack open-faced on the floor.

He lacks finesse, passion, and well, worst of all, creativity. 

The only thing he doesn’t lack is a big fat F on his first big assignment of the semester.

So, Zayn cards his hands roughly through his hair and wallows in his own self pity until his phone buzzes in his pocket with a new message from Niall.

**_how’d it go??? Bt u did awesome!! :D_ **

Zayn sighs. This sucks.

At least Niall doesn’t forget Zayn’s important days like some of his other friends.

So Zayn texts back.

**_if you count a fail, yeah, i did._ **

Instead of Niall’s picture flashing across his screen after ten seconds, it’s Louis’. Zayn snorts. Of course Niall would guilt trip him.

**_Bummer, mate! Pub tnight? Nialls treat._ **

**_lou’s an ass. bt fine, first round’s on me_** , Niall texts back.

Zayn picks up his sketchbook, glancing at the pages it fell open to. It’s a surprise his stomach twists in a nervous excitement when he sees Liam’s smiling face. 

Liam’s face being on that page, not that much of one.

He looks at the time on his phone. It’s five thirty. And it’s Thursday.

If he rushes, he can get his coffee. From a certain someone.

**_Maybe next time, Ni._ **

Liam is there at the shop, thank God, and Zayn really shouldn’t be so dependent on the boy- but then there’s that smile as he thanks another customer and he feels a tiny bit better about that fail.

Too bad he’s one person away from being served by Harry, _again_. (Zayn totally doesn’t grind his teeth back and forth at the thought).

But then Harry grins that dimpled grin as he finishes up with two giggly girls and ducks around back, shouting something to Liam about needing the restroom.

Either there's a second washroom for employees in the back, or Harry really doesn't have to use it. Or he's an exhibitionist and...

Zayn shudders. He'd rather not think of that.

“Harr-!” Liam’s blush sweeps everywhere as his eyes glue to Zayn’s and Zayn quickly switches gears to make a mental note to remember where to shade as soon as he gets to crack open his sketchbook.

“You’ll be fine for a few seconds!”

Zayn moves carefully over to Liam’s side of the counter.

“Hi.”

“The usual?” Liam nips at the side of his small smile.

And Zayn is definitely imagining that warm fluttery feeling in his stomach right now.

“Please.”

A few moments later, Liam hands Zayn his coffee and chocolate croissant with a blush tinting his cheeks.

“S’on me, mate.”

Zayn blinks as Liam reaches into his own pocket and opens his register. If he tries hard enough, he can probably forget what class he failed in.

“Thanks. A lot.”

Not even taking a sip from the cup can hide his grin. The shock of bright red coloring Liam’s cheeks only makes things worse and Zayn turns to find a seat before he does something stupid, like giggle. (Seriously, he almost fucking _giggles_ ).

He likes to think he has that mysterious bad boy thing going on, and giggling would most definitely ruin that persona.

Zayn finds a seat and opens his sketchbook, finding the oh-so-careful routine of drawing, sipping his coffee, taking a bite of his croissant, and sneaking glances at Liam when he isn’t looking (which has been a lot more difficult the past few days, Zayn has to admit).

Everything is going fine, swimmingly in fact, as Zayn smudges the blush into Liam’s cheek, until it’s not.

He reaches a hand lazily to grab his coffee and-

“Hey.”

Zayn startles, looks up, knocks his coffee over _everything_ (the poor drawing is ruined, but so are the real Liam’s trousers) and shuts his sketchbook as if he were looking at notes on how to make a bomb, or break into the White House, all in three seconds. Actually, Zayn would have preferred it if he were, it’d be a lot less embarrassing than _this_.

He seriously rethinks stabbing himself in the foot.

“Shit, sorry. Oh shit. I’ll- I’ll get the napkins.” Liam’s face is totally red.

“Nah, I’ll get them. Don’t worry about it.”

Curly watches as Zayn pulls out nearly half the contents of the napkin dispenser with a wicked smile and an even more unsettling twinkle in his eye when he hands off some napkins to Liam.

“Did I get any on your trousers?” Zayn asks once they’ve finally mopped the mess up.

“Just a few drops, nothing major." It only looks like Liam's peed himself a little. Not that Zayn's looking there anyway. He doesn't watch as Liam dabs nervously at himself. "I have an apron anyway. I think your sketchbook though…”

Zayn can deal with that later, he’s not saving the pages in front of Liam.

It’s only after a moment of awkward silence that Zayn notices a scone and a cup of tea next to what’s left of his coffee.

“Can- can I sit?” Liam stutters, a hand already on the chair, ready to pull it out.

“Yeah. Yeah. Don’t you have, uhm.” Suddenly, speaking is a lot more difficult when it doesn’t involve coffee and a croissant. “Work?”

Zayn gets another shy smile as Liam sidles into the seat.

“I have a small break.”

Zayn dares a glance to the counter and Curly winks.

He definitely doesn’t blush.

(Where the hell is his bad ass _I don’t give a shit_ attitude when he needs it?)

“Thanks again for the- you know, um...” Zayn looks back and lifts his half-finished cup. Liam smiles, sweet and gentle.

“Looked like you needed it.” He shrugs. “Rough day?”

Zayn nods, because why not?

“Failed a big art project.”

Liam winces. 

“Ouch. How big?”

“Twenty percent.”

Zayn watches the way his thick eyebrows crinkle as he mulls this over and resists to break open a fresh page in his (ruined) sketchbook. He’s not starting to creep himself out at all.

“S’not too bad, I guess.”

No, Zayn thinks. No it’s not when you’re saying it.

Niall would’ve shoved a beer in his hand and told him it’d be fine. Louis- well, Louis would’ve just laughed at him.

“I guess,” he repeats. “I have another one worth thirty and then at the end of the semester, the last one’s worth fifty.”

Zayn knows he’s rambling now, and he wants to will himself to shut up (he’s embarrassing himself), but Liam just looks on and nods eagerly, like he’s actually listening.

“So you’re in art then?” Liam asks.

Zayn nods. 

“Can I see your sketchbook? Or, you know, what’s left of it?”

And oh God. All those Liams. 

“No.”

It’s a very bad thing that Zayn is very much a dog person, because Liam looks like… well, a wounded puppy. Shot down. So it’s probably a good time for damage control.

“I mean- um. This one’s new, just go’ it. There’s nothin’ really t’see.” Liam keeps his eyes downcast on the offending book, nibbling on his bottom lip. Zayn’s brain chants more, more, more. “I ‘ave an older one back at my apartment-” but really, he doesn’t, “-I could bring it around sometime?”

He’s up to the challenge of sketching through one in a night though.

“You don’t have to if you really don’t want to,” Liam concedes. “I know art can be a bit personal.”

Zayn nods and wonders for a second on a scale of one to ten how creeped out Liam would be if he actually saw his sketches, from never talking to him again to getting a restraining order.

“What do you do?”

And wow, that doesn’t sound like a deflection at all.

Liam still looks surprised all the same.

“Business. I know, it’s not as cool or fancy as art, but…”

Zayn actually laughs.

“Don’t worry about it, mate. My roomies are in music and drama. ’S nothing compared to them.”

“Yeah, Harry, the guy I work with, he’s in political science and creative writing. I feel like I’ve gotten the short end of the stick somehow.” Liam smiles.

The rest of the conversation is kept light and sweet, with smatterings of slight blushes and shy smiles, and Zayn hasn’t felt like a twelve year old girl in _ever_.

Liam dusts his fingers off onto his plate before licking his lips, and if Zayn can salvage (probably not likely) his sketchbook, it’s going to be the first thing he draws.

“So, I gotta get back- see you tomorrow?”

Zayn finds himself smiling.

“I’m that predictable?”

Liam blushes. “You’re pretty regular.”

“See you tomorrow then.”

 

**& &**

 

Liam may or may not have forgotten to mention, or hadn’t made a big deal about it, but Harry, his co-worker, is also one of his best friends.

Zayn finds this out a few weeks after he and Liam start sitting together during Liam’s breaks, when Harry passes a slip of paper to him along with his coffee and another wink. Zayn feels almost bad and extremely awkward for taking the note until he unfolds it to find a number, clearly stated as Liam’s with a little caption at the bottom: _he wanted to give it to you, but he’s got a bug. The awful kind :)_

Zayn knows that kind. The kind of bug that just sneaks up on you after you’ve stressed yourself to the point of exhaustion over your midterms. The finals bug is worse though. He knows from experience.

Since Liam is out of commission, Zayn doesn’t stay at the shop long. Long enough to get his coffee and croissant to go and to program Liam’s name and number into his phone before throwing the note out.

He quickly realizes back at his apartment how big of a mistake that is though, when he sits himself on the couch to deliberate just what the hell he’s going to say in his first text (it's a surprise he even grows a pair to open up a new message) because Louis obviously has some ESP to know when Zayn is around. He comes stalking from behind, flopping himself over the back of the couch and into Zayn's lap with a ‘fwump’.

“Zayn!” 

Zayn closes the message and grits his teeth. The only thing he hates more than a conniving Louis is a whining Louis.

“What?”

“Where the hell’ve you been lately? Niall and I’ve been missing you.”

Zayn snorts. “You have not.”

“Niall drew a cock on my script, Zayn," Louis complains. "My acting mates were taking the piss out of me for a week.”

Zayn sighs.

“Would you consider that payback for breaking one of his guitar strings?”

Louis has his mouth open, but Niall’s Irish accent cuts him off as the blond takes Zayn’s other side.

“The guitar string on my guitar that I told you to lay your hands off of.”

“Wouldn’t have broken it if you weren’t trying to rip it from my hands,” Louis counters.

“Wouldn’t have had to wrench it from your hands if you weren’t touching it, you tosser-“

“Alright!” Zayn exasperates. “Fuck, I’ve only been ‘ome for five fucking minutes and you’re already starting on me!”

“Exactly!” Louis chirps. “You haven’t exactly been around to mediate as of late and Niall’s getting out of control!”

“ _I’m_ getting out o’ control?! Look who’s fuckin’-”

So much for texting Liam, Zayn thinks to himself.

“ _I’m_ going to the store to buy our week’s supply, so you’d better shut up and tell me what you want now, or else I’m getting-”

“Look at that, Niall, he’s already planning to ditch us again.”

“That’s ‘cause he can’t stand your bullshit.”

And Zayn’s had enough.

“I’m leavin’.”

“I’m coming with,” Niall sighs.

They leave Louis to whine about how he can’t come because he has to rehearse for a class skit (“you try reading your lines when there’s a huge cock going right through them”) and Zayn is glad. Even if the cheapskate only contributes ten pounds to their spending money instead of his usual twenty. (“You’re lucky I’m giving you anything. And buy me some whipped cream”. Which Zayn certainly will not).

Niall isn’t his usual bouncing self as they meander slowly through the aisles, purposefully passing the dairy section in favor of the chips and salsa. There are bags under his eyes, a slope to his shoulders, and a drained expression on his face.

Zayn just waits for it.

“It’s like he doesn’t know when ta stop,” Niall finally relents after Zayn endures five minutes of watching him brood and throw a bag of Doritos carelessly into the cart. 

Zayn nods, because he _knows_. 

“I usually don’ care if he fucks around wit’ me guitar, but I’m try’na write a song for one o’ me classes, and it’s really important. Had to ask me mum if she’d send extra money over for some new strings. She didn’t take that too well. An’ when the money finally came, and I got the strings, it’s like, I can’t get it to tune right. Doesn’t sound the same as it did before, and it’s messin’ wit’ the whole song. I only have a few weeks ta get it done. Oh, we need more milk too.”

Now Zayn can see why he’s super pissed. He steers the cart back around.

Niall lets out a slow breath. “That felt kinda good, to get that off me chest. Doesn’t solve the problem, but… thanks. Fer list’nen.”

Zayn nods again, because yeah, he gets that, and drops a pint of milk into the cart. He purposefully avoids eye contact with the whipped cream.

“Ya know, Lou’s probably only actin’ out ‘cause you’re never around anymore. He needs so much attention every day and you’re his favorite.”

“I’m never around anymore because he’s acting out,” Zayn says.

Niall hums. “Yeah, well. He’s right about one thing. We do miss you. Should start bein’ around a little more.”

Because he’s feeling bad now, spending more time with a potential date (okay, Zayn likes to think Liam is a little more than that) than with his best mates, he wraps an arm around Niall’s shoulder and ruffles his blond mop.

“You’ll get that song right.”

Niall smiles.

Louis is nowhere to be seen when they get back. He's probably in his room sulking, it’s highly unlikely he’s actually rehearsing. 

“I’ll make dinner,” Niall offers, taking a box of pasta and a jar of garlic sauce out of the bags.

Zayn doesn’t really want pasta again for the fifth night in a row, but he can’t be bothered to fight for kitchen rights. He takes this as an opportunity to sit around and mull over the question: to text or not to text Liam.

It takes two episodes of Supernatural, trying and failing to get Louis to come out and eat, and nearly choking through his mushy pasta (“sorry mate, let it go on a little too long, wasn’t watchin’”) for Zayn to get up the courage to send a simple, totally non-stalker-ish text: **_hey, it’s zayn._**

It takes at least half an episode of Doctor Who and a ‘good night’ from Niall to get a reply.

**_Zayyn? Frm teh coffee shop?? How’d u gt this nmbr??_ **

Zayn smiles.

**_yeah. heard you were sick. you okay? your friend harry gave it to me._ **

**_im fine, shuld be back at work by friii :)_ **

“Who’s Liam?” Zayn jumps at least ten feet in the air, the back of his head narrowly missing Louis’ chin. “‘Ey, watch it, mate!”

“None of your business,” he snarls, pocketing his phone before Louis has a chance to confiscate it. He doesn’t even want to risk texting Liam back. “And I suggest not sneaking up on people if you don’t want to get hurt.”

“A little snooping never hurt anyone,” Louis huffs. “What’s for dinner?”

“Niall messed up the pasta. You’re better off just makin’ something for yourself.”

Zayn shoots Liam a quick **_get better soon :)_** while he can still hear Louis rustling around in the kitchen.

“You didn’t get me my whipped cream, you twit!”

Louis returns with the bag of Doritos, fingers and corners of his mouth already dusted orange.

“Niall’s gonna kill you,” Zayn comments.

“Worth it,” Louis chuckles before curling up against Zayn and offering him some. Zayn grabs a handful.

“I have to admit, it is nice spending some time together, even if we have to watch this shit.” Louis sighs. Zayn crunches on his Doritos. Because Doctor Who is not shit.

Louis getting restless near the end of the episode says he clearly doesn't agree.

“You know I’m going to find out who this _Liam_ is, right Zayn? Within the next twenty four hours.”

Zayn doesn’t doubt it.

 

**& &**

 

The next morning Louis is screeching triumphantly, holding Zayn’s phone hostage over his head as he bombards an angry, sleep-deprived Zayn questions ranging from ‘what’s his last name?’ to ‘is he cute?’ to ‘are you fucking?’.

In the middle of all this, Niall finds out that Louis (with Zayn's help) ate all of his Doritos in one night.

It’s not an easy rest of the day.

 

**& &**

 

He doesn’t get to get his coffee for another two days, and it’s scarily apparent how much his body has become dependent on it in less than a semester. And Liam. Zayn is reluctantly willing to admit that too. (His new sketchbook needs to be christened somehow).

As he walks down the street after being let out of class, Zayn is still trying to come to terms with the fact that one of his professors (the one that absolutely _adored_ his painting) is renting out the university’s small gallery for his students to put on a little art show.

The fact that he has just a month to produce something awe-inspiring (something that’ll get him at least a B), worth fifty percent of his grade, and something he has given all of zero thought to is daunting (read: fucking terrifying) and he yanks open the familiar red door. It doesn't help that he has roughly a week to hand in his second largest assignment.

Liam still isn’t there (no surprise, although Zayn is totally not desperate for that child-like smile. Just missing is all), but Harry’s all smiles when Zayn walks through the coffee shop door two days later.

“Zayn, what can I get you, mate?”

“How did-?”

“Liam.”

Zayn snorts. Of course. Friends.

“Coffee, black, and a chocolate croissant.”

Harry relays his order to a girl with long brown hair tied up in a knot who just sighs and rolls her eyes.

“You’re lucky we’re slow right now,” she grumbles.

“Don’t worry about El, she’s not used to working Wednesday afternoons,” Harry states. “Liam’ll be back in a couple days though.”

“’S good.”

“I heard you two were texting. Liam nearly killed me for that one. I mean, he was talking about maybe exchanging numbers, but knowing him-“ Harry flits his hand. “It’d never happen. I actually didn’t think you would. Saw you throw my note out the other day, I was very offended.”

Such a Louis thing to say, Zayn thinks to himself.

“Well, thanks. I appreciate it.”

Harry’s smirk turns a bit mischievous. “Oh, Liam appreciates it as well.”

El slams Zayn’s coffee and croissant down on the counter in front of Harry.

“Please, no flirting with the customers, Harry.”

 _Hangover_ , Harry mouths. “Very lovely otherwise.”

Zayn chuckles, pays for his treats and leaves.

 

**& &**

 

An almost unnatural silence hangs over Zayn, Louis, and Niall’s apartment for the next few days. The only noises are coming from the old heater rattling away, the older couple directly below them having been known to turn it on as early as early October (Zayn shouldn’t complain though, since he’s sure Niall and Louis are far worse and they haven’t complained once, bless them), and a gentle, catchy melody wafting from Niall’s room from time to time. It’s a lot better than what he was hearing a few weeks ago.

Today though, it’s dead silent. Niall is most likely working on lyrics and Louis has stopped complaining about that ridiculously hard essay his Shakespearean Lit professor purposely assigned just to make his life a living hell to actually work on finishing it.

Zayn’s just trying to finish this painting for tomorrow and as expected, it’s not going well. Either his ‘passion and soul’ isn’t there, or he never had it to begin with. 

The thought of another F earns a frustrated cry as Zayn flings the half painted canvas across his room. It’s just not working.

Niall and Louis don’t even seem to notice. 

So much for missing and caring about one another, Zayn snorts furiously to himself.

He’s so done with this shit. He hates his professor, he hates this stupid painting, and most of all, he hates the palpable tension in the room. (He also hates the fact that Liam hasn’t returned to the coffee shop even though it’s now Monday, and he hates how he’s become almost dependent on him).

At least he does the reasonable thing and (just as angrily) stomps over to pick up the canvas, put it back on his easel and splatter white paint all over to erase his previous progress.

By the time he’s done splattering all the cold, steely shades of grey he can combine, all his anger has been channeled onto the canvas, it's three hours later and he’s exhausted. Zayn sighs and drags himself over to his bed, swearing up and down the whole two and a half steps it takes to get there that his professor _better fucking like it_.

 

**& &**

 

 _Something still isn’t clicking, Zayn. There’s no life. It needs passion. I do see emotion, but it’s only frustration,_ are his professor’s only comments when he gets his grade back Friday. Below them is a big, fat C+ _for effort_.

Zayn is torn between sighing in relief and punching someone.

He needs to vent, but Niall’s in some Celtic language course and Louis will just laugh at him, like usual. Oh, and Liam hasn’t been answering his texts.

Zayn shoves his sketchbook back into his bag and decides he needs a coffee and a croissant anyway.

He's not hoping for a miracle on the Liam Front, because it's been two weeks already since he's last seen the boy. And Zayn knows it's stupid to think, as he pulls open the familiar crimson door, but he wonders if he'll ever see Liam again- in the near future at least.

Liam’s finally back and- _Liam’s finally back_. That’s the first thing Zayn notices when he steps through the warm threshold. And he’s smiling that small little shy smile as he hands the girl in front of him her styrofoam cup and paper bag.

For the first time in at least thirty eight hours (but who’s counting?) Zayn smiles as his stomach swoops. He completely forgets that the knob basically disappeared on him and that he should still be quite angry with Liam.

Harry notices him as he joins the four person long line and elbows Liam, who looks up from his register and finally makes eye contact.

Smiles spread across both boys’ faces, Liam blushing and raising his hand when Zayn gives him a small wave.

His insides dance a little more and Zayn pretends to not notice. 

The line dwindles, and as it usually goes, Zayn’s one person away from being served by Harry (he guesses there just _must_ be no other way for the universe) while Liam deals with a girl who thinks he apparently doesn’t know how to count change. So he turns to the person behind him- a guy he recognizes from his sculpting class- and asks if he wants to go ahead.

He sees Liam smile down at the counter out of the corner of his eye when the girl finally stomps away with a huff.

“Hey.”

“’S not any way to greet a customer, is it?” Zayn smirks.

Liam blushes.

“S-sorry,” he stutters out. “What can I get you?”

Zayn laughs.

“It’s alright, mate, ‘m jus’ teasing. I’ll just get the usual.”

Liam nods and Zayn hands him his change, but Liam doesn’t move, just bites his bottom lip just enough to make Zayn wonder what they feel like.

“I have break in about a half hour. If you’re good to stick around, anyway,” Liam mutters sheepishly.

“I’ll get that for here then,” Zayn smiles.

A table of chattering schoolgirls too young to be in University and a very rough sketch of Harry’s outline make it into Zayn’s new sketchbook before Liam is sitting across from him, talking a mile a minute.

“I’m _so_ sorry I didn’t text or call you back, dropped my phone in the loo. Harry took the piss out of me for days for that, wouldn’t even let me use his, the tosser. I mean, even if I had, I didn't have your number anyway. And then on top of that, I was poorly, like, very, very poorly. And I still had to go to my midterms and I just got worse after that.”

Zayn blinks, because _of course_ Liam has a perfectly viable explanation as to why he disappeared off the face of the earth, and it’s _Liam_ , so he has to believe it.

“Oh my God, that was too much, wasn’t it?”

And Zayn just has to laugh because he hasn’t ever met anyone like this boy in front of him. So earnest and honest it’s painful.

“You’re-”

“A complete knob, I know,” Liam supplies, entire face to the tips of his ears tinged red.

Zayn sips his coffee. “I wouldn’t say that, but pretty close.” He smirks.

Liam tilts his head down and…

“Is that… Harry?”

Zayn dares a glance at his sketchbook, and sure enough, Harry’s curls are prominent against the rough scribbles of his face and shoulders.

He’s sure Liam can feel the embarrassment radiating from him.

“I just. Um. While I was waitin’ for you, I decided to draw some things. Here, ‘ave a look.”

He pushes his sketchbook (Liam free) across the table and Liam’s face positively lights up like a kid’s whose getting one Christmas present early this year.

“You’re bloody brilliant.” Liam flips carefully through. “That prof must be mental to not like your work. A complete knob.”

“I thought you were the knob here,” Zayn jokes.

“Not as much as- I love Batman!”

Zayn looks down again to see the dribbled watercolor he had painted in an attempt to procrastinate his abstract piece.

He can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face, even with his hand.

“Yeah? Same here.”

So they stay like that for most of Liam’s break (actually, Liam is way overdue to start his shift back up, but the shop is slow and Harry doesn’t have the heart to mention anything), Zayn sipping away at his coffee, watching Liam flipping through his sketchbook with eyes full of awe, all the while talking animatedly about Batman.

And damn, it’s such a nice contrast to the chaos that is Niall and Louis, being around Liam. Zayn loves it.

“Would you ever draw me?” Liam looks up.

It’s so sudden and unexpected that Zayn’s heart drops into his stomach. Because if Liam only knew. 

It’s hilarious.

“Wow, um.” Liam’s a beet red again. “I didn’t- you don’t have to. I was just… wondering. Wanted to see what I look like. I mean, how you'd draw. Me. Uhm?”

 _To me. What you look like to me_. Zayn wants to think that that’s what Liam is thinking.

“Yeah, no. I’ll do it.” Zayn takes back his sketchbook. “Jus’ try not to move around too much. You can still talk and whatever though. So you’re not bored outta your mind looking like a statue.”

Liam smiles, and Zayn flips to a new page in his sketchbook, so glad to stop working on the dumb table behind Liam and focus on something that seems a little more _right_ to be focusing on as Liam starts going on about his midterms and how he nearly retched all over his exam and professor.

Zayn avoids being cheesy at all costs most of the time, but he finally gets what his own professor means when he said that a work of art needed life, and that through an artist’s passion came that life. 

He also tries not to dwell on it too much when he notices that Liam’s eyes literally almost fucking twinkle on the page.

“Can I see?” Liam asks after a while.

Zayn nods, scribbling (with great care) the birthmark onto Liam’s neck before handing it to him.

Zayn can’t choose between wonderment and marvel as he studies the look on Liam’s face as Liam studies himself.

“This is-“

“’S nothin’, really.” (He’s had lots of practice).

“Nothing,” Liam deadpans. “This is absolutely bloody brilliant.”

“Well…”

“Can I keep it?”

Zayn nods. He has loads of others. And now that drawing Liam is out in the open (hopefully), he can draw loads more.

“Just sign it, yeah?”

Zayn laughs. “Why? ’S just a sketch.”

“Yeah but, I’ll have somethin’ of yours when you’re big and famous.”

“That’s not gonna happen any time soon,” Zayn sighs.

But he signs it anyway.

 

**& &**

 

"Look at 'im," Louis announces once he and Niall trudge back into their small apartment. (They had made up real fast after Louis brought him Nandos two days in a row as a surprise). "He's proper smitten."

Zayn rolls his eyes and pockets his phone to help unload the groceries (not that there are many) while Niall and Louis strip their scarves and coats.

"'S bloody freezin' out there," Niall complains. "Can't even feel me face."

Louis completely ignores this. "How's Liam?" 

"Who's Liam?"

"Niall, have you been living under a bloody rock lately?" Louis tsks. "He's Zayn's prospective boy toy."

"Not likely," Zayn hisses.

"Oh, so you actually like this one?" Niall raises an eyebrow.

The one thing Zayn hates more than anything in the world, even worse than his two best friends fighting with each other, is his two best friends ganging up on him.

"You haven't pulled any moves on him, asked him out, and you had to steal his number from his friend at the coffee shop."

Zayn doesn't remember telling Louis any of this. And he did _not_ steal Liam's number from Harry. 

"That's a clear sign you just wanna bang him," Niall finishes.

"Maybe I'm just tryin' ta get to know him, if that's alright with you lads," Zayn snaps, slamming the jar of pasta sauce on the counter. "I'm _not_ having pasta again."

While Niall makes an indignant sound, Louis thwarts his attempts to change the subject.

"Why don't you just ask him out or something? Like, to hang out and get to know him outside the coffee shop? There's a brilliant thought," he chimes sarcastically.

Much to Zayn's dismay, he thinks about it.

 

**& &**

 

Unsurprisingly, Zayn doesn't follow Louis' advice.

Surprisingly, it's Liam who asks him first.

Zayn might find it endearing and cute, how nervous Liam is all the time. But Liam is so nervous and jittery this time, it's making Zayn nervous and jittery.

"So. Um. Have you- have you been to the movies lately? Anything you want to see?" 

Liam shifts nervously in his seat, looking down into his cup.

Zayn nearly chokes on his coffee. 

"I mean- not like that or anything- unless… Never mind, would you want to catch something sometime?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that'd be cool."

Liam smiles wide, wider than his usual half chewed, shy grin. Zayn flickers his eyes down quickly, picturing what it'd be like to kiss the corners. 

"What'd you wanna see?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Liam begins chewing his lip.

Before Zayn can answer, Liam's attention swings behind him, and Zayn looks back, seeing Harry jerking his head back, pointing to the empty register. He's alone, and there's a huge line of people that winds almost up to the door.

"Oh, I- I'm sorry," Liam stutters, standing up quickly. "I need to- Harry needs me. I'll- I'll call you?"

"Yeah, of course. You're ten minutes late anyway," Zayn says with a smirk.

Liam goes red, even redder when Zayn gives him a playful punch on the shoulder as he gets up to go. (He definitely doesn't think about how solid it is).

 

**& &**

 

"Oh, this Friday? What movie?" Phone in hand, Louis has a wicked grin on his face as he shoots a mischievous glance towards Zayn, who has long since stopped trying to struggle against Niall's headlock. (It’s more a full body squish on the couch, but Zayn's stopped trying to tell Niall he can't breathe. He would rather suffocate than die of embarrassment.)

The thing is, Zayn never gets phone calls. Ever.

So when Niall's drunk voice (don't ask) blared from his pocket, all three boys looked at each other wondering just what the fuck was going on.

"I swear that wasn't me," Niall raised his hands.

Then finally, Zayn reached into his pocket and realized that Liam was actually _calling_.

Half a second later so did Louis, then Niall.

And they literally had an attack formation. Niall grabbed his phone, tossed it gracefully to Louis, and as Louis made a quick getaway into the doorway to the kitchen, he wrangled Zayn to the couch.

Which is how they all got here in this position.

_"Hello?_

_Who's this?_

_Liam?_

_Oh, hello_ Liam.

_Actually, Zayn's just in class right now, forgot his phone. I can take a message though, if you'd like?"_

(Did Zayn ever mention how much he hated his roommates?)

_"Pacific Rim? Nice, I'll let Zayn know you called."_

Louis ends the call with the same shameless grin on his face.

"Pacific Rim?" He asks Zayn. "Did you find, like, your soul mate or something? Nice voice too, wonder what he sounds like in the sack. Seems a bit shy though. Hm. They're always the best anyway."

Zayn groans.

"Jus' shut up, Lou." Zayn shoves his hand in front of him. "Can I 'ave my phone back please?"

"I didn't even embarrass you and this is how you thank me?" Louis huffs. "Fine. But on one condition."

His smile turns downright evil. Zayn narrows his eyes.

"Unless you want me to call him back and tell him you pissed the sheets when your nightlight went out in the middle of the night." Louis dangles his phone. "Last semester."

Even Niall snickers at that.

Zayn relents.

" _Fine_ , what do you want?"

 

**& &**

 

"So, what does he look like?" Louis asks, bumping Zayn's shoulder with his.

Zayn grits his teeth, wondering for the millionth time if it was worth it saving his dignity over the phone just to have it crushed in person in about five minutes.

"You'll see."

"Christ, mate." Niall shudders in his coat. "How much further? My toes are goin' numb. You walk all this way for the bloke? Must be somethin' special."

It's really only a ten minute walk.

"What about when it gets to January?"

Zayn will cross that bridge when he gets there.

"Blue or brown eyes?"

"For fuck's sake, Lou."

Zayn's never been more relieved to have the warmth of the coffee shop hit his face as he opens the door.

Thankfully, the only other person in line already has their purchase in hand and is walking towards a table. 

Harry's and Liam's intrigued (more like, judgemental eyebrows raised 'what the hell are they all doing standing in the doorway like idiots') gazes are glued to the three of them. Eleanor is just putting on her apron.

"Oh shit," Louis breathes. "Tell me Liam isn't the tall curly haired bloke. Or the bird."

Niall elbows him for Zayn.

"Don't start, please." Zayn hands him a note. "Just shut up, get something to eat, and for the love of God, don't embarrass me in front of him. And get in Harry's line."

"That's-"

"Curly, yes," Zayn hisses, pushing both his friends towards the counter.

Liam looks confused and a little flustered when Zayn gets to him.

"Please don't ask."

Liam chews at his smirk.

"I get off in about ten minutes, El is covering for me."

"I'll wait," Zayn smiles and snatches a table before Louis and Niall follow over.

"I must say," Louis bites into a scone. "I wasn't sure whether I'd be devastated if Curly was Liam or not. Cause on the one hand, you'd finally be getting some totally hot piece of ass, but on the other, I wouldn't."

At least Harry gave Louis something to talk about that wasn't Liam.

"I liked him though." Niall measures out some sugar on a spoon before dumping it into his tea. "Seems like a top lad."

"Who?" Louis asks.

"Liam, you git. Who we came to see."

"Oh, right. Liam." Louis chuckles. "If you can get past the fact that he looks like a puppy crossed with David Beckham. I mean, it's totally cool if you're into that kinda thing though, Z."

"I'm glad you approve," Zayn mutters sarcastically. (But really, he is).

Louis takes a sip from his cup and immediately gags.

"This coffee tastes like bollocks."

Then, Liam's standing over them, a shy slope to his shoulders and red-faced even though no one's said anything yet.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Have fun, tell me how the movie is," Niall says.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Louis calls after Zayn and Liam.

He leans into Niall as Zayn gets up to leave. "Must be special if he can handle the shit coffee to come here."

Niall chuckles.

Zayn decides he's going to kill them both when he gets home.

"So…" Liam offers once they're back out on the street. "Louis, is that who was on your phone the other day?"

Zayn looks back into the coffee shop's window just to make sure neither the boy in question, nor Niall, have set off to burn the place down. He catches Louis throwing a sugar packet into Niall's face, to which Niall just grins and offers him a sip of his tea.

"Yeah, don't mind 'im, he's a nutter. Completely bonkers. Niall's almost as bad. And Irish."

Liam laughs.

"I know what you mean, Harry's the same way. Met him last year when I got the job at the shop. Don't know what I'd do without him though. You guys been friends a while?"

"Been puttin' up with 'em for three years. Louis was my roommate my first year in uni. I had a few electives with Niall. Louis apparently saw him around and started bringin' him around and he just stuck, never went back to his own room after. Then we got kicked out and found an apartment together.”

"Kicked out?" Liam's eyebrows raise with interest.

It was all Louis' fault. And Niall's. Okay, maybe Zayn had a bit to do with their eviction too. It also wasn't much of a one time thing, it was more of a slow build (thanks to Niall and Louis), then complete blow up (Zayn). It all went down when Louis was finally able to convince Zayn how awesome it'd be to graffiti their residence's hallway walls after they had been smoking. (It was something Louis had been working on for a while when they would smoke together).

Needless to say, that was the last straw and the boys were kicked out of their residence. But not before being forced to agree to repaint the entire wall Zayn had 'damaged'.

"Yeah, we were a bit… mischievous back then."

'Back then', who is he kidding? Louis won't ever change. And as long as he doesn't, Niall won't either.

Liam doesn't question him further, and Zayn doesn't offer any more conversation. He's kind of glad, he likes the comfortable silence as they walk to the theatre.

"So, Pacific Rim okay?"

"Yeah, I've been waitin' to see it."

"Great, yeah, me too."

Zayn definitely does not want to kiss that smile. Instead, he just opts for leading the way to the ticket counter.

"Two for Pacific Rim," Liam says before Zayn can even open his mouth.

"What-?"

"I got it," Liam smiles warmly. "Don't worry about it."

"Liam…"

"It's fine, really." He hands over the money, and hands Zayn one of the tickets.

"Thanks," Zayn sighs in defeat. "But I get the snacks."

He ends up losing that battle too. Louis was right, it's the puppy eyes.

"Maybe next time," Liam pops a piece of popcorn into his mouth with an uncharacteristically cheeky smirk. (Zayn totally doesn't have to restrain himself from forcefully fishing it back out with his own tongue).

"I'm counting on it."

No matter how much he tries, Zayn can’t deny the way Liam’s hand brushes up against his as they shuffle into the theatre. He doesn’t dare look Liam’s way.

Nothing else is said or done as they watch the movie and pass the popcorn between each other.

Zayn is actually really enjoying it until they’re flung back into Mako’s memory. Liam looks over, noticing immediately how the little girl’s cries cause his jaw to clench, furrows his eyebrows, makes him grip the seat. Liam licks his lips nervously, stomach churning as he tastes the salt and butter. His heart stutters when he looks back at Zayn’s hand.

Zayn cringes again as the little girl hides behind the dumpster in the alleyway, grimly picturing his sisters in the same position. His blunt nails scratch at the plastic of the armrest and-

Liam’s fingers gently brush across the side of his hand just as he reaches to grab more popcorn.

Zayn looks over just as Liam’s hand takes the place of his on the armrest, and Liam has this determined glare set on the screen that does an admirable but not so believable job of hiding the disappointment on his face.

So Zayn keeps his hand firmly planted in the bag of popcorn while Liam’s hangs halfway off the armrest, dejected, but still in place like he totally meant to rest it there.

Liam watches the rest of the movie with his head bowed. (And Zayn kind of wants to take his hand as an apology).

 

**& &**

 

In the end, Liam walks Zayn home (despite Zayn’s multiple complaints that he’s _twenty_ for God’s sake. He doesn’t want to admit it’s still really nice) even though there’s something trying to tug his smile down.

“Thanks,” he says when Zayn walks up the steps of his building. “For coming.”

Zayn shrugs. “You paid for everything.”

“I wanted to.” 

“It was nice, I haven’t-”

Zayn forces himself to dig into the back pocket of his jeans, procuring a pack of cigarettes (to which Liam wrinkles his nose at, but doesn’t comment) so he can shove one in his mouth to shut himself up before he says anything else dumb. He realizes he didn’t think that one through when he also realizes that means spending more time outside his apartment with Liam.

Not that he minds. Because he really doesn’t.

“Haven’t what?”

“Haven’t had a night out in a while, or, one that was good anyway.”

Liam smiles, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“So… would you do it again?” His bottom lip catches between his teeth and Zayn finds himself swaying closer.

“If you let me pay,” he jokes, flicking the stub of the fag to the ground.

“Maybe,” Liam smirks.

Zayn gives him a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

“I gotta get in, see that nothing’s gone wrong. And so you don’t freeze your bum off in the next five minutes.”

This earns a chuckle.

“Yeah, see you soon?”

Zayn smiles.

“Yeah… soon.”

He punches Liam’s shoulder one last time before turning back into his apartment building.

 

**& &**

 

“For real?”

Louis and Niall look over from the couch, totally unaware of their very compromising position. If a bag of chips weren’t dangling a safe distance from Louis, Zayn would be a little suspicious.

“Do I really want to know how you two got like that?”

Louis rolls off of the blond, sitting up straight. Niall just clutches the bag of chips closer to his chest.

“I don’ want him takin’ me crisps anymore.”

“Yeah, got pretty boring just watching you and the puppy just standin’ around, so we required some snacks. And Niall wouldn’t give me any.”

“Like that time you left me my empty bag o’ Doritos back in the cupboard,” Niall fires back.

“Oi! You snooze, you loose, git!”

Zayn just rolls his eyes and retreats back to his room before either of them remembers he’s just come back from his- hanging out with Liam.

 

**& &**

 

The next few weeks pass by in a blur of Liam and art. Zayn sneaks Liam over to his apartment every chance he gets (read: when Louis isn't there, much to the boy's dismay. Niall isn't so bad). Liam isn't so secretive. He and Harry rent a tiny apartment on the other, more political and business savvy side of the university campus.

Zayn likes Harry. When he doesn't ask about 'the other one with the nice arse'. Zayn definitely won't tell him the boy with the nice arse likes his long curls and legs, as well as El's.

Liam just laughs when he tells him this.

"He'd pro'lly take Louis up on that offer," he says when Zayn tells him Louis isn't one to say no to a threesome.

That's what Zayn is afraid of.

So he just laughs and knocks his shoulder against Liam's. He doesn't miss when Liam's smile twitches and falters, leaning into Zayn's shoulder a bit more than he probably should. Zayn can't even begin to count how many moments like this have passed between the two, ever since the night at the theatre where Liam's hand almost caught his. Touching hands, grazing knees, play fighting that doesn't even feel like wrestling over the game controllers.

Liam's tongue darts across his lips, catching Zayn's eye and attention, and for a second, Zayn thinks about grabbing the corner of Liam's jaw with his hand to bring Liam's mouth against his.

Zayn shifts, sitting up straighter as he gulps, feeling the nervous confidence starting to bubble inside him.

It's like Liam notices the subtle shift in the air between them too and looks over, and for once, Zayn can't really tell what he's reading in his eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Then, Harry's walking through the door, shaking water from his curls with a huge dopey grin on his face.

"It's snowing!"

And just like that, the moment's gone.

There's no chance of going back either when Harry plops down on the couch next to Liam.

Liam gulps, shooting Zayn an apologetic glance.

"So, what are you doing tomorrow?"

"I'll probably be in the studio, like. We're coming up on the last few weeks of class and I have that project due."

"Yeah, I've gotta start cramming too."

Zayn likes Harry, he really does. Just not when he inquires about Louis. Or when he interrupts his and Liam's little moments.

A few (many) awkward beats of silence later and Harry still sitting next to Liam with a dopey shit-eating grin, Zayn gives up and says he should start working on his final project. Liam walks him to the door, but not before giving Harry the dirtiest look Zayn's ever seen Liam give anyone.

 

**& &**

 

Zayn looks up out the window to see grey. If he squints, he can see tiny little snowflakes flurrying around. He can't remember the last time he's been outside, much less outside the art studio with a few other last minute crunchers. (At least they're almost done with their pieces). He hasn't slept well, his back hurts from sitting in the chair for so long, and he's absolutely positive he reeks from his greasy hair to the two day old wardrobe he's been living in.

"So, have yeh decided on what yer doin'?"

Two brown paper bags and a styrofoam cup of coffee are dropped beside the easel Zayn's working at.

Zayn stares steadily at the white canvas. A few pencil scritches and scratches here and there, it still doesn't look like much.

"Not really."

"That the coffee shop?"

Zayn nods. "Thanks. For, you know, actually knowing what it is."

Niall laughs. "Your prof didn't like it?"

Zayn's shoulders slump. "Said it was okay." So what else is new?

Niall nudges his shoulder affectionately.

"I got yeh some fish n' chips from that wagon y'like. And a coffee and croissant from Liam. His treat. Thought ya needed somethin'."

Zayn digs through the less greasier bag for the croissant and finds a little yellow post it with a smiley drawn on it. Niall grins with him.

"Did a heart first," he relays. "Then he trashed it and did a winky face. Then trashed that and went the safe route. Don't think he thought I noticed."

Zayn sticks it to his easel (with a smile).

"Well, I'll let ya get back to it," Niall winks. "But come home soon, yeah? Lou's pitching fits."

"It's only been-"

"Two days straight. And yeh smell."

"Shut up." But Zayn grins anyway.

 

**& &**

 

Zayn seccumbs and heads back to the apartment on the fourth day, tired, aching, and desperate for a warm shower. Louis, although almost peeing himself with excitement over Zayn's return, announces that he won't touch him until he's scrubbed his whole body at least twice.

 

**& &**

 

Zayn rakes his fingers roughly through his unkempt hair, frustrated beyond belief. The scene isn’t coming alive. He can tell (or maybe that’s just his professor nagging at the back of his mind). Even though he clearly tried to recreate the entire interior the coffee shop, it’s not enough. He can’t even connect with the warmth of the browns, creams, mahoganies, and burnt oranges he’s grown so fond of.

He likes the coffee shop, sure. But there’s something missing.

Zayn flips through the ruined sketchbook he had to ditch months ago because of his pride.

Hoping for inspiration, he scans through the various objects, strangers and Liams.

And Liams.

Wait.

And _Liam_.

Zayn shakes his head quickly.

No. Absolutely not, no.

He’ll just stick to his original plan, add maybe a few patrons in the seats… 

_**Heyyyyyyyyy :) hows it gniog??** _

Zayn sighs and lets his head fall against the wall.

If this is supposed to be a sign, it’s not funny.

Zayn texts back a _**great**_ and there isn’t a tiny part of him that hopes Liam will read between the lines. (Of course not).

He only lasts five more minutes (and texts) before giving up like he knows he’ll never be able to finish the painting without half-assing it.

_**i lied, it’s shit. the painting isn’t working and it’s due tomorrow. i’m going to fail.** _

Zayn starts panicking when Liam never answers back.

Fifteen minutes after his breakdown message, he’s ready to hurl something (preferably himself) out a window.

There’s a knock on the bedroom door before Zayn can follow through with his plan though, and Niall peeks his head through.

“Liam’s here.”

Zayn’s head snaps so quickly he might have whiplash.

“What?”

“Liam. He’s askin’ fer ya.” 

“How’d-”

“Probably too busy pitchin’ a fit over that painting. Which is fantastic by the way.” Niall nods to his coffee shop.

Liam’s wearing a warm jacket, the hood from a hoodie underneath, gloves, boots, and a sheepish smile when Zayn rushes to the door.

“Hey.”

“Hey, what are you…”

“Figured you need a break.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow.

“You know I said it’s due like, tomorrow, right? The painting that I’m still not done?”

Liam’s smile falters a bit, but he shrugs anyway.

“Breaks are good once in a while. I’m taking a break from my studying if it makes you feel better.”

No, it doesn’t. (But maybe it does).

Zayn sighs and Liam smiles again.

“Dress warmly.”

Niall follows Zayn back to his room while Louis appears from his cave to entertain Liam. (Why Zayn is actually allowing this, he'll never know).

“Seems nice,” he comments, watching as Zayn ransacks his bed for the toque he had just been wearing yesterday. “Good looking. Top lad. I like him.”

“You've said that before," Zayn harrumphs. "What are you getting at?”

“You seem to like him. Go fer it. Don’t mess it up by waiting around and dodging everything. I can tell something happened when ya went to see that movie wit’ him.”

“I’m fine. We're fine.”

Niall shrugs.

"I'm just sayin'."

Zayn finds his toque and leaves the blond behind in his room.

Liam smiles at him after he finishes putting on his coat.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Where are we going?” Zayn asks.

Liam shrugs. 

“We’ll know when we get there.”

Zayn never took Liam as the spontaneous type (Harry’s suggestion?), but they end up taking a short bus ride and walk towards a local park- back near Liam and Harry's place.

“How can it be so difficult?” Liam’s voice breaks through the soft silence after a while. “The art thing. I still keep- uhm. I still have your drawing you signed. ’S really good.”

Zayn smiles at the thought, shrugs. “I dunno. It’s art. It’s fickle. One day it’s like, you’re really inspired, you know? And then the next, you can’t even draw a stick figure. ’S not just days either, you can have good and bad weeks too. The painting’s just not working out for me right now.”

The fir trees littering the park are alight with strings upon strings of colorful Christmas lights and Zayn finds himself stopping to take the scene in.

"How have I never seen this place before?"

Liam chuckles.

"I run here all the time. It's a great place to just stop and think, y'know?"

Zayn takes Liam's wrist (he doesn't see how his warm brown eyes widen, how he loses his breath for a second) and leads him to the nearest decorated tree, telling himself the blush across his friend's face is just from the cold. 

"'S really nice here," he says. 

Their hands fall apart.

"Yeah, I know," Liam says softly.

Zayn's just starting to walk around the tree, admiring the glow when- FWUMP!

Something hard and cold hits his head and he turns back to Liam, who's now grinning, molding another snowball in his mitts.

Zayn growls.

"No! You seriously took me all the way out here for this? I could be doing-"

Liam launches the second snowball, hitting Zayn square in the face to shut him up.

"Admit it, this is better."

Zayn doesn't know when the hell in the span of five minutes Liam managed to get this cocky, but he doesn't like it. (He really does).

So, with an aggravated huff Zayn scoops up a fistful of sticky snow and forms it between his hands, feeling the bite of the cold through his gloves. He fires, and Liam ducks.

"That's not fair!" He cries. "You got two hits!"

"That's why they call them snowball fights, Zayn." Liam laughs.

Two more balls are hurled his way and Zayn ducks down just in time, balling up some more snow.

Through all the laughing and the shouting and the snowballs flying through the air, Zayn only hits Liam three times, Liam inching more towards fifteen against Zayn.

Finally, Zayn just gives up, marches over to Liam with a fistful of snow, and smashes it right into his pretty, smug face.

"Hey!" Liam splutters through the slush melting on his skin. "'S bloody unfair!"

"Unfair?" Zayn finally has his turn to laugh. "Fifteen against four is hardly fair!"

"Three!" Liam counters, pushing Zayn back gently. "The one that grazed my arm didn't count."

Somewhere in between their banter, Liam, grinning madly, has Zayn pinned against one of the firs.

He watches how the melting snow sliding off Liam's face and hair (that Zayn totally doesn't think about licking off) catches the bright colors of the Christmas lights hanging from the tree's branches, illuminating his strongest features with a rainbow of colors. 

In that moment for Zayn, something just clicks. He _does_ totally want to lick the snow off Liam's face, he wants to kiss his reddened lips and cheeks and nose, he wants to nibble at that birthmark right by Liam's throat and hear Liam groan appreciatively while he does all these things. He wants to hold Liam's hand like he didn't (and should have) at the theatre while they walk down the street and tell all of their friends that they're dating.

"Zayn?" It's only a whisper on Liam's lips, a tremble in his throat as he looks down at him with impossibly big brown eyes searching his with uncertainty.

"Hey," Zayn whispers back.

Liam smiles gently, brushing the thumb of his mitten across the stubble of Zayn's jaw carefully.

"Hey." 

It passes like a secret between them.

Zayn's brain short circuits, chanting _kissmekissmekissme_ as Liam slowly, slowly leans in, inching his face closer and closer.

Zayn exhales a shaky breath he had no idea he was even holding when Liam's nose bumps clumsily against his own. Liam hesitates, pausing to look up with eyes that ask _is this okay?_ Zayn closes his own, hoping the message gets across and it does, as Liam's hand tilts his chin up for a better angle.

The warmth of Liam's breath moistens Zayn's lips and he swears for a second he can feel Liam's barely ghosting his own when-

" _Oi! Get a room!_ "

Zayn snaps out of his little reverie and twists his head away from Liam's, taking in the figure of a homeless man meandering through the snow. He swears he hears a _bloody faggots_ muttered, but he doesn't really dwell on it as he looks back at Liam.

He exhales a shaky little puff that dissolves as soon as it's in the air.

"We should- we should go, like. I really need to get back."

Liam's mouth opens and closes, an unwanted mutilated sound coming from his throat before he gulps it back down and nods quickly.

"Yeah, right. Sorry."

They don't even bother waiting for the bus, just walk through the snow and stoney silence until they're back at Zayn's apartment.

Zayn's just about to book it for the front door when Liam grabs his arm, pulling him back.

"You know you… You can tell me if you're not- you know."

Zayn really turns around to look at him, and he looks just as small and fragile as his voice sounds.

"What? I-"

"Zayn!"

Both Zayn and Liam look up to see Niall practically falling out of the window- Zayn's window. Zayn's stomach drops because _what the fuck_.

"Niall, what the- gimme five fucking minutes!"

"Zayn, it's serious! Lou spilled his tea on your painting!"

Zayn's blood freezes and Liam looks absolutely awful, eyes going wide, mirroring the way Zayn feels, and no, this can't be happening. Not tonight.

"I'm- I'm sorry, I shouldn't have taken you out. This was such a bad idea."

Zayn rubs his head, willing himself not to have a mental breakdown in front of Liam.

"It's fine, I had a really good-"

"Niall made me do it! He pushed me!"

Zayn grips his hair. He's going to fucking rip Louis' head off.

"I'll text you later, yeah?"

Liam bites his lip.

"Yeah, okay."

Zayn doesn't hear the _sorry again_ Liam mumbles as he storms up the stairs to do damage control.

"How bad is it?" Zayn asks as Louis blocks his path to his room.

"Well, that depends." Louis chews his lip. "On your interpretation of 'bad'."

Zayn clenches his jaw. 

"Louis."

"Is this a bad time to ask if Harry was around or not?"

Zayn shakes his head in disgust as he shoulders past and slams his door in Louis' face.

"Think ya can fix it?"

"Lemme see."

Niall, who hasn't really moved far from the comfort of the windowpane, jerks his head towards Zayn's painting. 

Niall motions to the canvas and Zayn's heart drops.

The tea has already set in, and there's no doubt someone tried to dab the liquid out.

"At least s'only in a corner?" Niall tries.

Zayn rubs at his face, shaking his head.

It's a really fucking big corner.

"I'm fucked. I'm so fucked."

Fingers pinch into the muscles in his shoulders and work the tension.

"Nah. You'll figure somethin' out. Y'always do."

"I wouldn't have to figure shit out if someone kept Louis out of my room," Zayn snaps.

He immediately regrets it because he doesn't have to see the hurt flashing across Niall's face to know it's there.

"'M sorry. I shouldn't've let him in. But it's Lou. And I wanted to see how yeh were doin' too."

In the following silence, Niall's fingers slip from Zayn's back and he cautiously makes his way to the door.

"And sorry fer, ya know, ruinin' a maybe kiss."

"Didn't ruin it anymore than I did," Zayn mutters.

Niall snorts and shakes his head before slipping out the door. At least he keeps his comments to himself this time.

Examining his tea-stained painting, Zayn itches for a cigarette or two. Or a pack. Or twenty packs. And a good cry. A good silent cry couldn't hurt at this point, seven and a half hours to go before this thing is due. (He can't even hand it in, it's ruined thanks to his fucking twat of a friend).

Zayn really doesn't know what he's going to do. He waits until he's downed a whole pot of tea, chain smoked through a pack of cigarettes, and calmed down before pulling out a clean canvas and staring at it for another half hour until his eyelids are drooping heavily.

He makes a mental note to stop procrastinating so long. (Like that will ever happen).

Glancing back at the ruined coffee shop, Zayn groans, because he knows redoing it is not an option. Like, at all. His heart just isn't in it.

It forces Zayn back to his sketchbooks, studying the locations, superheroes, friends, and Liams he's drawn. 

In the back of his head, all he can see are the Christmas lights illuminating Liam's face.

By the time he's flipped through all the blushes and half-chewed smiles and crinkly eyes, he knows what he needs to do to get that A+. Pride be damned. 

Starting the preliminary sketch is the easiest thing he's ever done.

 

**& &**

 

Zayn is absolutely exhausted the next morning getting up for his early class, but it’s all worth it when he looks up from his pillow and sees the labors of last night.

Liam smiles sweetly at him as the snow in his har and on his face starts to melt, crinkled eyes twinkling the colors of their night in the park surrounded by Christmas lights. A line of grey and black paint reaches Liam's head, bursting out the other side a splattered rainbow of colors, like Pink Floyd's (Niall's contribution to his iPod) _Dark Side of the Moon_ album cover style.

A warm feeling spreads in the pit of his stomach and he smiles at the painting. He gets up and adds a few finishing touches, fixes some areas up and hopes it’ll dry enough to be portable by the time he’s out of the shower.

Niall and Louis are both in his room, crowding the painting when he gets out. Niall lets out a low whistle.

“What happened to that coffee shop scene you were workin’ on? Not try'na salvage it? I liked it.”

“Wasn't feelin' it anyway,” Zayn mumbles. "Can we please step away from this one? I'd like for it to be in one piece when I leave."

Niall hums.

Louis isn't so concerned.

“Are we not going to talk about how blatantly obvious that it’s Liam’s face Zayn’s gonna hand in today?” He states obnoxiously. “Or am I the only one noticing strikingly similar similarities besides the fact he's colored in like a rainbow?”

Zayn finally smacks him over the head for that one.

 

**& &**

 

It feels as though a weight's been lifted off of his shoulders after class ends. His professor took his canvas without a word, and Zayn beat it out of there before his curiosity lead him to look for any kind of reaction.

All he wants to do now is go back to his apartment and sleep.

He’s just past the English department's building when- 

"Zayn! Zayn!"

Zayn swivels around, caught off-guard by the familiar voice.

It's not Liam.

It's Harry, all gangly limbs loping towards him, worn leather schoolbag slapping against his hip as he adjusts the bright orange beanie on his head.

"Freeze your arse off cold, innit mate?"

Zayn can't tell if he's snarling, or his face is just scrunched up like that from the cold.

"Yeah. What're you doin' round here? Thought you were poli-sci?" 

"Library."

Zayn nods.

"Where you headed off to?" Harry asks.

"Back 'ome. Jus' finished a huge paintin' for class and I only got like, an hour's worth of sleep."

Harry winces. "Brutal. Liam said somethin' about you havin' a project."

"He did?"

Harry's lips quirk up. "Listen, you're proper knackered and I'm going to be at least ten minutes late to my next class- half way across campus-" he explains, waving his hand absentmindedly. "So why don't I tell you to meet me at the shop Sunday? Around one. Liam's got the day off."

Zayn isn't quite sure what that means, nor how to respond to it, so he just says "okay."

In the couple of days before Zayn is set to meet Harry, there's sleeping, finishing up his some big projects for his other classes, studying for his one exam on art theory, and not one text from Liam. Not that Zayn's noticed. (But of course he notices).

It worries him a bit, actually. That he could have very well fucked up not only his chances of snagging the perfect boyfriend, but at the very least, an awesome friend.

But he doesn't dare try to text Liam. No, Zayn Malik doesn't do desperate, no matter how desperate he really is. 

And he's really fucking desperate by Sunday when Harry finally comes to his table on break, five minutes late, two styrofoam cups and a small brown paper bag in hand.

"I got you a coffee and a croissant. Not chocolate, sorry. Liam wasn't here to save one for you. He did that once, you know that?"

Zayn shakes his head, sipping on the cup Harry hands him.

"Paid for it and stowed it in the back until you showed," Harry grins, pushing the long curls from his face.

Zayn smiles at that.

"But 'nuff about the croissants. I wanted to talk to you about Liam."

Zayn raises an eyebrow, and Harry's expression turns serious as his eyes scan Zayn's face.

"Look, I think you're a decent guy, and I trust you, so that's why I'm telling you this. Liam really likes you, and he's… Liam's never had the best track record with relationships. Doesn't have a really good self-esteem cause of it. I don't want you screwing around with my best mate, because if this only ends badly for him again-"

"I'm not-"

"You're not what, Zayn? Giving off mixed signals like they're on a two-for-one sale? I'm his best mate, I know everything. You go on these little _dates_ and hang out with him, but then you never-"

"Dates, who said they were dates?"

Zayn realizes it's the wrong thing to say as soon as the words leave his mouth. Because they were totally dates, now that he thinks about it. Shy, tentative first dates.

"Look," Harry deadpans. "It is what it is. Whatever it is. I see the way you look at him too, that's definitely not how I-just-wanna-be-friends guys look at each other. Figure it out, and just go for it. Or stop leading Liam on. The poor bloke's wondering what the hell's wrong with himself."

Zayn can't quite stop nodding dumbly.

"I- I really do… you know. Quite a bit, actually," He admits. Quickly, Harry's frown turns into a bright grin. "I'm just- I procrastinate a lot."

"Well, I'd say if Liam were a huge assignment that meant passing or failing right now, you'd be doing him the night before. Uhm. Metaphorically speaking. Because. Okay, that was just a bad analogy, forget I said that," Harry shakes his head and Zayn unintentionally snorts. "But you know what I mean. Don't dick around anymore. He really likes you too. But I've got to go now, I should be getting back to work in-" Harry pulls back the sleeve of his coat to look at his watch. "Five minutes ago."

He's grabbing his empty drink before Zayn can blink.

"Enjoy the treats, mate."

"Thanks," Zayn calls out after him. "And don't- don't tell him, yeah?"

Harry smirks. "This little meeting was just to evaluate where we stand with each other. You like Liam. I look out for him and make sure nothing goes wrong."

He's gone after that, but not before stumbling over what looks like his own feet.

Zayn takes a deep breath and pulls out his phone, sending a quick 'hi' to Liam.

 

**& &**

 

"Great news, lads and lasses!" Zayn's professor announces the last day of classes.

"I've managed to rent a room out of the University's art gallery at the end of the exam period. Every one of you will get to have three pieces each on display for one night. Although, there is one catch. One of those pieces has to be the final piece you've just handed in to me."

Shit. Shitshitshitshit.

Okay, so, Zayn takes it back. Pride not be damned. He doesn't want his Liam being seen by anyone.

In reality, he should have seen this coming. Since the beginning of the year, this professor was hell bent on a student art show for the whole University to be welcome to attend.

Besides, who said Liam's coming? What he doesn't know, or isn't invited to, won't hurt him.

 

**& &**

 

"Hey Zayn, Liam." Niall stomps the snow from his boots onto the carpet and sets his guitar case down to take off his jacket. He peers into the living room where Liam and Zayn are sat, Zayn's arm draped around Liam's shoulders as Liam cradles Zayn's kneecap in his hand. He doesn't bother to hide the wide smile that appears. "Lou not back yet?"

"Do you even need to ask?"

Niall chuckles. He knows Zayn's strict policy of keeping Louis away from Liam at all times. (Even though Zayn's broken that rule at least twice now).

Zayn resists the urge to pull his arm back since there's no point, Niall's already seen them. Instead, he rubs Liam's shoulder restlessly, earning a shocked, curious glance that turns into a shy, crinkle-eyed smile at the floor.

"Hey, mate," Liam calls back quietly.

"How'd it go?" Zayn asks.

"Great!" Niall chirps. "Got all flustered for nothin' these past few weeks. They loved the song, said the chorus was catchy as fuck."

Zayn smiles, he knew it'd go well.

"How'd your new painting come along? Did he say anything?"

"Nah, not really. I just handed it in at the end of class and bolted." Zayn leans back on the couch, hoping the conversation dies out.

Niall chuckles. "'Course you did."

"How did you manage to fix it?" Liam asks. "Was it okay?"

And Zayn's heart sinks, because he really doesn't want to talk about this.

"I didn't manage to save it, I just painted a new one."

Liam's eyes widen. "Oh?"

"Yeah, 's nothin' special, really."

"Zayn says it's gonna be on display at the Uni gallery," Niall supplies, much to Zayn's chagrin. "Little art show by the students."

Zayn's face heats up as Liam looks over at him, a little shocked and almost expectantly, like he's hoping to be invited. And Zayn is _not_ ready for Liam to see his painting.

"I'm gonna go make some tea," Zayn murmurs, watching Niall slink away into the kitchen. "Why don't you like, start up some Call Of Duty, yeah? I'll be right back."

Liam nods happily, and Zayn practically books it to the kitchen, grabbing Niall's arm and shoving him around roughly.

"Seriously?" he hisses.

Niall is doing a terrible job at hiding that smirk playing on his lips.

"What, mate?"

"You know how I feel about Liam seeing my shit," Zayn whispers harshly. "He's gonna think I'm some fucking psychotic stalker or something!"

Niall laughs, grabbing the kettle for Zayn. "Mate, that's the last thing he'd think you are. He'd probably think it's endearing or some crap like that. 'Sides, coulda been a lot worse, I reckon. He came by lookin' fer ya one of the days yeh were in the studio, and we ended up chillin' a bit."

Zayn's body tenses.

"With Louis?"

"With Lou."

Zayn frowns. He never knew Liam dropped by before he took him to the park.

And he wonders why his friends thinks he hates them. 

It's because he does.

Niall grabs the tea mugs and plucks out three teabags from the cabinet.

"Look, all I'm sayin' mate, is that either one of us could have dumped yer sketchbooks on him and invited him to look. But we didn't. S'only one painting. Not the end of the world. Or your sketchbook collection." Niall smirks playfully. 

"You need more faith in us, Zayn."

Zayn sighs, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He doesn't like this one bit, but he relents a little anyway. "I guess you're right."

Niall usually is.

"And sorry fer not tellin' ya he dropped by that time. Didn't want ya flippin' out on us. Ya know how you get with him. All protective and shit. It's kinda adorable. And Lou's not as bad as you think he is 'round him."

"Shut up."

Liam walks into the kitchen on Zayn giving Niall a painful noogie. 

"Uhm. I just. Game's been ready." Liam jerks his thumb towards the living room.

"Patience, Li. Tea's almost done." Niall smiles back, wriggling free from Zayn's grasp.

 

**& &**

 

Zayn ends up taking Liam home after two refills of tea and kicking Niall's ass in Call Of Duty at least six times. He chews at his bottom lip the whole time they chat- the conversation with Harry echoing in the back of his mind- making the winter's chapping worse.

When Liam finally announces they've arrived, Zayn's lip hurts and sure he's drawn blood and-

"So, am I really invited to your art show?"

"D'you, you really wanna come?"

Liam just looks at him like a hurt puppy and why the hell did Zayn even fucking ask that? 

If Niall's right, of course Liam wants to come.

"I mean, if you don't want me to, that's fine." Liam frowns.

"No, I want you to. It's just a little thing, like, nothing fancy. But I want you to."

And Zayn thinks it's so fucking cheesy, but Liam's frown just turns upside down, and he's biting it back too.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'd love to come. If, you know, you really actually want me to."

Zayn nods, a little laugh escaping his throat.

"I do, really. Jus' don't laugh at my stuff."

Liam turns his smile to the ground, allowing Zayn a quick second to glance around and spot Harry peeking out of what has to be one of their apartment windows.

"I'll see you there then. Promise I won't."

Zayn doesn't miss the way his fingers brush over Liam's knuckles, mostly because he initiates it, but he has a feeling that that really wasn't what Harry meant when he told Zayn to tell Liam how he felt. He also has a feeling that the Harry in question is still watching them intently.

Liam is halfway up the stairs to his own apartment when Zayn gathers up the courage to say his name.

"Wait."

Liam turns back around expectantly, and Zayn can't look him properly.

"I'll… I'll see you around. Thanks. For you know, wanting to come to my art thing. And. Yeah. Like. I'll see you there. G'night."

He dares a glance to see Liam smiling softly.

"Yeah, night."

Zayn can't get away fast enough once Liam is behind the door.

He turns back long enough to see Harry still in the window, shaking his head into his hand.

 

**& &**

 

Zayn doesn't know why he's agreed to this. He really doesn't.

He's standing in front of his painting, shifting his weight from one foot to the other while he frowns.

Forget Liam thinking 'why the fuck did this dude paint me', he tells himself. What if he doesn't like it?

"How do I look?" Louis whispers quickly in his ear, eyes shifting around as he tugs at the dark grey blazer he's thrown over a white button down shirt. (To be honest, Zayn is actually impressed with the wardrobe transformation. But ratty old t-shirts and sweatpants aren't high standards to begin with, he guesses).

It's his big night, and somehow, Zayn thinks to himself, Louis always manages to make things all about him. Zayn really doesn't know how he does it.

"Dapper," he answers.

"Yeah? Think Niall'll approve?"

And Zayn's face twists, because _what?_

"I thought you were looking for Harry?"

Louis swallows, and puts on his game face. "Right, Harry. Curly. Did Liam invite him?"

"Not sure."

Louis huffs. "Let's find Niall then."

They find Niall at the small little buffet, shovelling cheese and crackers down his throat when he thinks no one's looking.

At least Louis breathes out a sigh of relief. Zayn feels strung up like he's been hooked up to a caffein drip all day. He keeps looking over his shoulder, checking the door to see if Liam's just arriving.

"I'm just gonna head back to my painting."

"Why?" Louis asks through a mouthful of crumbs and cheese Niall's just fed him. "What's going to have changed? Does it secretly move when no one's looking? Like those awful 'sobbing angels' or whatever on Doctor Who?"

Zayn narrows his eyes, hissing a "Weeping Angels, you tit", and stalks back to his spot, glad Louis is out of his hair.

When he gets there, his professor is standing by his painting, staring at it intently. He steps forward and swallows, his stomach swoops, and he just prays to God that his professor likes it.

“Hey, sir.”

His professor steps away from the painting and upon seeing him, smiles.

“Zayn.” His smile grows wider. “I’m really proud of you. You’ve got something good here.”

And Zayn breathes a sigh of relief through a smile.

“Thanks.”

“I mean it. I can see the dedication and care you’ve put into it. And it seems like you’ve found a muse.” 

His professor winks and turns away with a ‘see you later’ and Zayn stands there admiring the colorful Liam.

There's also an abstract mural and the coffee shop painting he had managed to salvage (destroy even more) just before the exhibit. Zayn had just poured more tea onto unfinished spots and corners to give it a washed out, old effect and to be honest, it wasn't half bad in his opinion. 

There's really not that much to see, but his peers come up to congratulate him anyway. 

He stands there for most of the night, occasionally going around to return the favors of 'good job', and 'awesome painting, mate'. He never strays for more than a minute, not wanting to miss Liam.

Liam never comes.

Zayn just tries not to picture him beaten to death somewhere on University grounds.

Maybe he just finally threw in the towel and gave up on Zayn.

The thought twists his gut more than he expected it to.

He's trying to stutter out a not-so-obvious explanation about the inspiration for his Liam painting just before the gallery closes for the night. He's trying to not sound too disappointed to a girl who sat a couple tables behind him in class when he notices her attention focuses behind him, and a soft hand lands on his shoulder. He gulps, heart pounding against his chest and body suddenly hyperaware of the hand touching him. Like he just knows.

"Oh."

"Oh."

The girl just blushes, mumbling a 'nice job again' before scurrying off to talk to another girl who sat beside Zayn.

His heart feels like it's stuck in his throat, and when he tries to swallow the fear down all he can come out with is a strangled 'hi'.

Liam's cheeks and nose are flush from the cold, eyes wide and so, so sorry.

"I just- I was so tied up in the sports complex, just a game of footie with the lads. I thought I was on time, but I'm so late, and I almost had to fight the professor to get in, until he recognized me? I don't know where I know him from, but-"

And then he turns his head to Zayn's miniature exhibit and Zayn is still not prepared for this.

He starts twisting his wrists frantically. "I- um."

Liam's mouth drops.

"Oh. That's me. That's why-"

Zayn's teeth clamp down on his lip.

"Yeah, a bit. Maybe. Probably."

"That's-" Liam sucks his bottom lip in while he examines the painting.

Right now, all Zayn can do is hope Niall was right.

When Liam's finally turning back to Zayn and opening his mouth again, Zayn's stomach is dropping with the weight of all the things Zayn's imagining pouring out of it.

Too bad the voice that comes out doesn't belong to Liam.

"Sorry lads," his professor says. "We're closing up for the night." He turns to Liam with a small smile. "Thanks for attending, it means a lot to the students."

Once they get outside, Zayn is already heading away from the building.

"Zayn."

"Your place or mine?" He rushes out.

"Zayn, can you just-" Liam catches his arm and pulls him back. "Can you just wait for a second?"

Liam pauses, freaking Zayn out because of course Niall was wrong. Zayn's a creepy psycho, and Liam's totally gonna request politely that Zayn respect his personal space. 

But his eyes are all soft and there's a little appreciative smile trying to wriggle it's way onto his lips.

"No one's ever done that for me before. I mean, the drawing was one thing…"

Okay, scratch that last though, Zayn always knew Niall was the voice of reason.

"I'm… I'm sorry if it comes off as a little… weird, okay, fuck, no, it's very weird, but it was the night you took me to the park, and then Lou spilled his tea all over the coffee shop one-" Zayn motions his hands around as frantically as he feels. "And I just. I wasn't inspired. And all I could think about was how your face looked in the lights."

And instead of saying thank you, or doing what a normal person would do and call him a freak, Liam pulls him in and kisses him.

Kisses him.

It's all so sudden and unexpected and a little off-center, but once Zayn registers that, holy shit, Liam's actually fucking kissing him, he curls his fingers into Liam's hair and straightens them both out, earning a strangled little sound from Liam's throat when he slots their lips together as perfectly as possible.

It feels like an eternity when they pull apart, but Zayn just rests his head against Liam's with a tiny, triumphant grin.

"This whole time." Liam breathes. "You drove me absolutely mental."

"I suppose I did. I’m sorry, I'm the world's daftest twat."

Liam laughs.

"You are. But I'm a complete knob, remember?"

Zayn smiles, mumbling an "I do" and Liam swoops in for a second kiss.

Zayn steals the third kiss, feeling his heart stuttering for a beat before asking the question again.

"Your place or mine?"

Liam grins.

"Harry's gone back home for holiday already."

"Your place it is, then."

 

**& &**

**Epilogue.**

 

"You two are disgusting," Louis announces when he walks in, grocery bags in hand, on Zayn and Liam playing FIFA in the living room.

The thing is, only Zayn and Liam's knees are touching, and not in any fantastical way either. Louis missed their little touchy-feely-bordering-on-something-else-if-not-for-Niall-being-in-his-room makeout session by about a good fifteen minutes.

Zayn supplies as much, but Louis just sniffs.

"Isn't it your big five months or summat? Zayn, go take your boyfriend somewhere proper. Go be sickeningly cute somewhere else."

Zayn huffs out a 'go away', because he and Liam had already agreed that there wouldn't be a big fuss over five months. But that just causes Louis' eyebrow to arch dangerously. Liam, of course, mediates.

"Why don't we catch a movie?"

Zayn sighs in agreement, not really wanting to make anything of Louis creeping into Niall's room with a can of whipped cream, and the screech that follows after.

"The new Hobbit?"

Liam grins.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Zayn gets to pay. Or well, he forces Liam to let him pay.

"I still get the snacks, right?" Liam asks, brows furrowed and a pout on his lips.

Zayn won't let them get to him this time.

"Nope," he grins.

Liam pouts some more, even after Zayn pays for their popcorn and pop too.

"Sit in the back?" He asks, eying the packed theatre room.

"Yeah."

Halfway through the film, Zayn notices Liam's resting his hand on his armrest and he pulls his hand out of the bag of popcorn, popping a few pieces into his mouth before grazing his butter and salt slick fingers along Liam's knuckles.

Zayn twines their fingers together, earning a shocked glance from Liam.

"Should've done that the first time," he mumbles.

Liam doesn't hear.

"What?" He blinks.

Zayn shakes his head with a quiet laugh and kisses Liam. 

"Nothin', jus' watch the movie."


End file.
